Children of Lovecraft by Ellen Datlow & Caitlin R. Kiernan & Laird Barron

Author:Ellen Datlow & Caitlin R. Kiernan & Laird Barron [Datlow, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Dark Horse Comics
Published: 2016-09-19T19:00:00+00:00

THE SECRETS OF INSECTS

Richard Kadrey

Detectives Leonard Moore and Dale Komiski walked the prisoner to the car. With the killer cuffed and shackled, it took a few minutes to get him out of the elevator and put him into the backseat. Dale was careful not to strike the prisoner’s head on the door frame and to make sure that his hands and feet were safely inside before closing the door. Len nodded in approval. The prisoner was important and he wanted everything locked down, secure, and, above all, boring.

“Boring is always the best scenario,” he liked to tell younger detectives. “It’s like going to the doctor. If there’s something wrong with you, you want it to be boring. If the doc gets too interested, you’re fucked.”

“Dull enough for you, boss?” said Dale, getting into the car. He smiled at the older man.

“So far, so good,” said Len. He got behind the wheel and steered them away from the San Francisco central holding facility. Ten minutes later they were on the freeway, heading south. The afternoon was clear and sunny. Hot even. Traffic on 101 was sparse. A good beginning, he thought.

Dale fiddled around with the air conditioner controls.

“How’s that?”

Len nodded.

“Just fine.”

He rapped on the cage separating the backseat from the front with his knuckle.

“Don’t start,” said Len.

“I’m being polite,” Dale said. He half turned in his seat. “How’s it for you back there, Looney Tunes? Comfy?”

The prisoner was thin and tall enough that his head grazed the car’s ceiling. When he smiled, which he did now, his face was all teeth.

“Very. Thank you, Detective Dale,” he said.

“That’s Detective Komiski. And when you’re referring to my partner, it’s Detective Moore.”

“Of course.”

The prisoner pressed his face to the window and looked up into the cloudless sky.

“I wonder if it’s going to rain.”

Dale looked out his window.

“Are you kidding? It’s never going to rain again.”

“The drought. Some say it’s the act of an angry God.”

“Who says that?”

“Oh, you know. People.”

“Sometimes people don’t know shit.”

“I agree completely. Still. It would be nice if it rained.”

“That it would.”

The prisoner didn’t speak again for over an hour and they passed through San Jose.

“Ah. The happy hunting grounds,” he said, then frowned. “That was a gruesome thing to say, wasn’t it?”

“A little,” said Len.

“Sorry. Still, it’s interesting how definitions of acceptable versus unacceptable change; don’t you think so, Detective Dale?”

“Change how?” said Dale.

The prisoner looked out the window.

“An older black man like Detective Leonard chauffeuring a young white man like you. Why, back in my daddy’s day, people would have thought something of that. How the situation denoted who had status and privilege. But in these more enlightened times, no one bats an eye.”

Dale looked at Len. Len shook his head.

“I told you not to start, didn’t I?” he said.

Dale turned to the prisoner.

“That was an asshole thing to say, Asten” he said. “Through this whole thing, the trial and everything, you weren’t an asshole. Don’t start now.”

“Of course. You’re right,” said the prisoner. “Detective Leonard, please accept my apologies.

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